For John Watson

[howdull]

[Sherlock is still finding pieces of the melted laptop in the carpet.

It had actually been quite an ingenious booby trap to be devised by a fourteen year old boy with only household chemicals to work with but, as Sherlock surmised, rather overkill to keep his mother from finding his extensive porn collection. Not one of their more illustrious cases, but it had been quite entertaining to watch both the boy and mother's faces as he revealed that he did know the how and why. He lost interest after the mother started shouting and John started shouting and the whole thing turned tedious.

He rather thinks John won't actually be doing a full write-up of this one on his blog.

It's been two days since their last case and he's beginning to get more than a little antsy. Lestrade has sent him nothing, just a boring hit and run that he refused to even leave the flat for, and nobody interesting has appeared through the blog. Said blog he is currently scrolling through on John's laptop, having borrowed it again.

He did ask, it's not his fault John hadn't been in the room at the time.]

Bored, John.

[He doesn't even know if his flatmate is even in, but that's hardly a necessity for him to actually speak to John. Frustrated, he throws the laptop across the room to hit the wall, where it summarily breaks. Which is where he can be found whenever John appears, sulking amidst pieces of laptop, both from the melted one of their last case and John's poor broken one.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

[He's just going to... leave that text for a moment, well aware that he's probably going to be losing a girlfriend at the end of this. And his rotation at the clinic. John puts on his best smile for the nurse in turn.]

Much better, actually. And the pain's down to a 1 or a 2. I was hoping I could get some real clothes. There's a sketch artist coming from the police and I just... I don't know them, y'know?

[howdull]

[She clucks her tongue sympathetically and moves to check his morphine levels while she talks.]

I understand, I don't like these gowns either, they're not very flattering, eh? We've got some tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt in lost property that look about your size, will they do?

[jumpthegun]

Perfect! You're an absolute angel, Nurse...?

[howdull]

Constance. You need to be careful of those compliments, my husband might get jealous.

[She chuckles roundly as she heads out, not long before she's bringing back the promised clothes, setting them on the edge of the bed.]

You be careful getting dressed, and you can sit in the chair when you're done. I'll come back and change your bedsheets in a little while.

[jumpthegun]

Well, he's a lucky man. I'd be jealous, too.

[John gives her a wink, and another smile when when she brings the clothes. As soon as she's gone he pulls on the track suit bottoms and carefully removes the morphine and any other things he's hooked up to before pulling on the T-shirt.

He's about as stable as he's going to be right now for faking being all right. John works off his hospital bracelet and strides with confidence down the hall, well aware that confidence tends to work better for being ignored than sneaking for a hospital corridor.

If he can just make it past the nurse's desk without being noticed...]

[howdull]

[Lucky for John and his escape attempt, he's completely right when he thinks that walking confidently will get him ignored. Nobody accosts him as he strides right on past the nurse's station and into the lift. A few people look at him a bit oddly when he exits the hospital without shoes, but nobody thinks to actually stop him.

Good job, now he's outside with no shoes, no money, and a bugged phone.

What now, Doctor Watson?]

[jumpthegun]

[All right... Right. Maybe he should have thought this through a little more. After thinking it over, he just moves himself away from the entrance to the hospital, toes already chilled, and sends off a text to Sarah.]

TO: Sarah Sawyer: On the move. I'll call you when I can. Love you.

[And then he dials Bart's.]

I'd like to speak to Molly Hooper, please.

[howdull]

[The switchboard operator puts him on hold for a few minutes, a soft and slightly out of tune version of one of Mozart's compositions flooding the speaker, before eventually Molly's voice sounded down the line.]

Um, hello? This is the morgue, Molly Hooper speaking.

[She doesn't tend to get a lot of calls, not many people want to talk to a mortician and the ones that do usually send her a direct call to her mobile or just drop by.]

[jumpthegun]

Hi, Molly. This is Dr. Watson, Sherlock's flatmate. Look, this is gonna sound like a really weird request, but I need your help for a case. Could I come by Bart's and borrow one of the computers there? And, uh... d'you have a car, by chance? I'm a bit stranded at the moment.

[howdull]

Oh.

[There's silence for a moment, awkward and unbroken. At least he mentioned Sherlock so she can place who he is, but why wouldn't he just get a cab? And why wouldn't Sherlock be the one who's coming? Can she ask that? No. No, that'll just seem too pathetic. Wait, she's been quiet too long, say something, Molly!]

Yes, I mean, I'm always happy to help Sherlock-- you, both of you with your cases. Whereabouts are you?

[jumpthegun]

[John thanks the powers that be for people with cars. He's going to have Molly lock all her doors as soon as he gets in.]

Royal London Hospital. The intersection just nearby at... [He gives her the cross streets.] I'm in a T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. Hoping I won't be that hard to spot. You don't know how much I appreciate this, Molly. Thank you.

[howdull]

[She rings off pretty quickly, but he'll still be left standing around with bare feet for a good twenty minutes.

Just long enough for his phone to ring with Sarah's number. If he doesn't pick up, she will keep calling over and over until he either picks up or turns his phone off.]

[jumpthegun]

[John stares at the sky and lets it ring to voicemail for the first call and the second. When she persists, he finally gives in.]

Sarah, this phone is being monitored by a psychopath and the British government. I know you want to yell at me, but can we get the abridged version?

[howdull]

[Her voice sounds tight like she's trying not to cry.]

Right, of course it bloody is. Just like you're going to throw your own life down the drain for Sherlock; I know he's your best friend, I get it, but God, John. I don't want to see you end up dead for this. Please won't you come and talk to me?

[jumpthegun]

I can't. I really can't. You'll be in danger, Sarah. [And he suspects he'll have a harder time getting away from her than the nurses.] Everyone around me right now is in danger. I'm not throwing my life away, I don't want to risk yours. You're too... you're too important to the people at the clinic.

[Given that the Alphabet Woman is listening, John isn't sure how far the wants to dip into romantic overtures. That will just paint a bigger target on Sarah's back.]

This is really stressing you out, I understand. It's probably best we take a break right now, okay? Just focus on yourself. You don't need to worry about me or my problems.

[Because he doesn't want them becoming her problems as they had in the Blind Banker case.]

[howdull]

You...

[She sounds as if he's just punched her in the stomach, because that's honestly what she feels like. He's breaking up with her because she's worried about him? It's a good job that he's not in front of her, or he might have a black eye to add to the rest of his problems.]

...fine. You know what? Fine. If you ever decide you want to talk to me like a goddamn grown man, give me a call.

[She tries to breathe out calmly.]

You're due in at the clinic next Wednesday, we can discuss things then. Goodbye, John.

[jumpthegun]

[John closes his eyes for a moment.]

Goodbye, Sarah. Be safe.

[He hangs up, feeling like a complete and utter asshole. There's another bridge burned... although she does seem to be offering the chance to rebuild it. But if he cuts people out of his life before the Alphabet Woman can get to them, that will be better. That will be safer. D is for Doctor? G is for Girlfriend? Sarah's at least moved down the priority list. Hopefully.

While he's waiting for Molly, he does send one other text.]

TO: Lestrade: Something came up. Couldn't stay. I'm sorry, detective. I promise I'll meet with you this afternoon at the station.

[howdull]

[Just as Molly is pulling up, a short but colourful reply comes in from Lestrade.]

FROM: Lestrade: You arsehole.

[The car that Molly pulls up in is a Smart Car, shiny and red, with a pair of fuzzy skulls hanging from the rear view mirror.]

Um, do you know you're not wearing shoes?

[jumpthegun]

[It's an adorable car, and John gets in quickly. The effects of the morphine are starting to fade once more, but he's got a bit of time to be moving around still.]

Yeah, I, uh... borrowed these clothes. No shoes available.

[He rolls down his window as an afterthought and tosses his phone out. He'll deal with the repercussions of that later. He doesn't want something bugged on him, though.]

Thanks for coming out here. [John clears his throat.] Dunno if you've heard about what happened, but someone blew up our flat the day before yesterday. And kidnapped Sherlock.

[Just getting that out there. He'll leave off murdering his sister for now. Molly's more likely to be sympathetic to Sherlock's plight than his own.]

[howdull]

[Molly sets off as soon as John's in the car, giving him a weird look when he throws the phone out but not commenting until his devastating news. The brakes slam on hard enough for her to nearly get rear ended, the driver behind blaring his horn.]

Oh-- OH!

[She doesn't even care, turning to look at John with worry painted all over her face.]

When was he kidnapped? Do you know who it was? Have they asked for a ransom? Is this to do with his creepy big brother?

[jumpthegun]

[John slams against the safety belt and just about screams, his face blanching, and his eyes going wide.]

Broken ribs.

[It's gasped. The lingering effects of morphine weren't prepared to deal with that.]

C-Christ, Molly. Drive. Please drive. And lock the doors.

[His own hand fumbles for the door lock on the passenger side. He'll wait for her to start driving again or stare at him long enough to get his breathing under control and fight down the pain of that jolt.]

He was kidnapped two days ago around 6 PM, probably. I know who it was. We're looking for her. And there's no ransom. It's not about his brother. I'm being targeted by someone and Sherlock got caught in the cross-hairs. He sent... mm. Bloody hell, that hurt. He sent me a text with some details. We're looking for someplace along the Victoria Line, carpeting older than 15 years. Might be located near a place called Blink and Ink. I think it might be the woman works... or somewhere she might have gone before. They might have info on her.

[howdull]

Sorry! Sorry, I didn't know.

[She winces in sympathy but does set off again, mentally berating herself. She's always like this, it's no wonder that she hasn't got many friends. No wonder that she's a little bit in love with a man who barely even notices her.

She jams the gear stick into third gear as she picks up speed, worry taking over again.]

Two days and nobody's found him yet? That's-- they could be really hurting him. What did you do to someone to get Sherlock kidnapped?

[Because she will kick him out of this car.]

[jumpthegun]

[John bites down on another little groan of pain as she accelerates and his back hits the seat. He's going to ask her for a morphine drip when they get to the morgue.]

I honestly have no idea. I think the woman doing this is the wife of one of the men I served with in Afghanistan. I met her just a little bit after she kidnapped Sherlock, but I didn't recognize her. She said I ruined her life, though, so she's ruining mine. I was a Captain, so it's probably that I ordered her husband into battle or didn't save him in the middle of a firefight.

[howdull]

[She nods, not his fault then, but she will not cry if this woman ends up on her mortuary slab needing to be cut up, that's for sure.]

Alright, so-- how can I help? Why me? Why not Detective Inspector Lestrade?

[jumpthegun]

Because... [D.I. Lestrade will put me back in hospital and chain me to the bed this time if I go to him.] Molly, Sherlock trusts you. You know the way he thinks better than most people. You've worked with him for much longer than I have. You know him. I have two clues to work with, and I'm not nearly as clever as he is. But between the two of us, I think we might be able to get it.

The Alphabet Woman also won't be targeting you. We're not friends or lovers. It means she probably won't be coming for you. She doesn't know how important you are to Sherlock or to me right now.